Please Remember Me
by Scribbler
Summary: After the duel in the warehouse when Yuugi nearly burns to death, everyone is happy he's alive. However, when he wakes in hospital he has no idea who any of them are. Regaining his memories is further complicated when his absent mother returns from Tokyo and decides he should come and live with her instead of his grandfather, which brings several ugly Mutou family secrets to light.
1. Disaster Strikes

**Disclaimer****: **Unquestionably not mine.

**A/N****: **Co-written with Cypsiman2 on the Interfics Forum (link available in my profile).

* * *

**_Please Remember Me_**

(c) December 2012.

* * *

**1. Disaster Strikes**

* * *

Anzu, Jounouchi and Honda waited nervously for news. When Grandpa Mutou arrived it only ramped up the tension another notch, until the air in the hospital waiting room was thick as custard and twice as difficult to breathe without choking.

"A fire?" he echoed when Jounouchi told him what had happened. "But how? What was he even doing by the waterfront?"

"We don't know," Jounouchi replied miserably. "It looked like someone had set up a duel there."

"But why would he go alone? I don't understand."

"Neither do we."

Anzu stared at her thumbs and worried at her cuticles with her fingernails. Guilt jabbed into her gut like a stomach-ache. Yuugi had been there alone because she had left him alone when she went to fetch Jounouchi and Honda. She should never have left. She should have stayed – should have been there with him when he needed her. The skin around her nails was tender and raw, evidence of how long they'd been waiting and how little they knew – and how the little they did know was all bad.

"I thought I saw Bandit Keith running away," said Honda, "but that can't have been right."

"Someone-" Anzu stopped. "Someone stole the Millennium Puzzle from Yuugi, right off the street. He chased after whoever it was, and … and …" She stopped again. "It could've been Keith. He was wearing a hood that hid his face"

"Hey, stranger things have happened," Jounouchi said with false levity. It levitated about as well as a titanium balloon. One that had been thrown off a cliff. On Mars.

"He wouldn't let it go," Honda said in the same half-dazed tone. "The whole frigging warehouse was on fire, and he wouldn't let it go. Even when he was unconscious from the smoke, he wouldn't let go of that necklace."

"Because it's more than just a necklace," Anzu said softly. She didn't need to elaborate. Just as they couldn't have left Yuugi to burn, Yuugi couldn't have left Yami behind. It would have been touching if it hadn't been so terrifying.

Therefore it wasn't surprising that they all jumped up when the doctor finally emerged to tell them what the hell was going on with Yuugi. They may not have known what had happened to put him here, but they could at least find out what would happen to get him out again.

Doctor Yamamoto's expression didn't fill them with hope on this score.

"Retrograde amnesia," he told them after a lot of umming and ahhing.

"What?" Jounouchi demanded.

"But he … it was smoke inhalation!" Anzu protested.

"There was some skull trauma. He suffered a blow to the head?"

At once, Honda and Jounouchi looked absolutely mortified.

"We had to pull out the nail holding the Puzz- his necklace in place. He wouldn't let it go," Jounouchi explained. "We tried to make him, honest! But he just … would let go." It sounded stupid to anyone who didn't know the full truth.

"So you hit him?" Doctor Yamamoto prompted.

"No way!"

"He fell. Forward. When the nail popped out we flew backwards, but he fell forward. He bounced off the, um, metal wall thingy." Honda made a vague gesture with his hands. "We didn't think anything of it. I mean, the warehouse was on fire, man. We thought as long as we got him out of there before we were all barbeque, he'd be fine."

"A noble idea. You're both heroes," Doctor Yamamoto deadpanned. "But I'm afraid that fall had consequences. His current condition has to do with the way Yuugi hit his head, which has had caused some trauma to his brain, resulting in retrograde amnesia, which is-"

"We know what amnesia is!" They all stared at Anzu, but she ignored everyone except Doctor Yamamoto. "Are you telling us Yuugi has lost all his memory?"

"Not all of it," Doctor Yamamoto said primly. "Retrograde amnesia is not the same as full amnesia. From what we can tell, he has perfect memories up until a certain point in his life. It is simply that he believes today is that point in time, not the current moment."

"Huh?"

"Doctor." Grandpa Mutou stepped forward. "Please explain in small words. What is wrong with my grandson?" Nobody had ever heard Mr. Mutou sound so scared before.

Doctor Yamamoto sighed. "In layman's terms, he has no memory of the last five years."

"What?" Jounouchi thundered. Anzu gasped. Honda just looked shell-shocked. All three of them were immediately running through all that had happened in the last five years. Where had Yuugi been five years ago? Hiding in a corner playing games by himself, friendless and alone, with an unsolved Millennium Puzzle and a catalogue of bruises from school bullies and whoever else felt like picking on him ...

"That … that can't be true," Anzu murmured through her hands.

But it was true. It was terribly, hideously true – which they discovered to their horror when they were finally allowed in to see Yuugi, and their friend smiled up at them without a hint of recognition.

"Hello," he said, polite and agreeable, but ever so slightly timid. Everyone noticed the way his hands bunched in the covers at the sight of so many tall people advancing on his bed. "D-Do I know you?"

* * *

The Nameless Spirit of the Millennium Puzzle was worried; after Yuugi had solved the Millennium Puzzle, he had never gone so long without wearing it and thus granting him access to his spirit. Without that connection, the Spirit had no way of knowing what was happening outside the Puzzle, no way of knowing if his partner was still well, still safe and secure. He waited and waited, something he had three thousand years' worth of practice at.

"Maybe the Other Yuugi can do something." He suddenly heard Jounouchi's voice echoing throughout the musty halls of his own lost memories, and realized that Jounouchi had to be holding the puzzle directly; had something happened to the cord Yuugi had attached to it? "Relax Anzu; you think I'd try if I thought anything might go wrong again?" Again? The Spirit's worry spiked as Jounouchi's filtered through the Puzzle. "Yuugi, I know this is going to sound crazy, but you're about to meet the one friend who can really help you out here."

There was a sudden click, like the tumblers of a lock falling into place, and the doorway connecting the Spirit's soul room with Yuugi's appeared.

"Partner!" The spirit ran for the door and threw it open, not knowing what he was about to see save that his dearest friend would be there.

Just past the hallway that marked the separation of their domains, the doorway into Yuugi's soul room was closed. Trepidation filled the Spirit, the door to Yuugi's room had always been left at least a little open before, but when he took hold off the knob, it wasn't locked.

"Partner, I'm going to come in now. Whatever's happened, I promise I'll help."

He opened the door, and saw a Yuugi five years too young crouching in the corner with a pair of old toys in hand.

"Partner?"

The little boy looked up at him. He blinked like someone who had been asleep too long. The spirit wanted to run to him, but found himself frozen in the doorway. It wasn't just Yuugi's appearance that was wrong; something was off with the whole feel of the room. His eyes darted left and right, taking in the hairline cracks in the brickwork, the overabundance of shadows in the corners and the damp coldness in the air. He was used to Yuugi's Soul Room smelling of happy memories: the cookies he and his grandfather had baked on his fifth birthday; grease from any one of the hamburger restaurants he loved to visit; that cakey make-up from when he had visited Anzu backstage at her dance recital. This room smelled like mould and old shoes.

"What has happened?" the spirit asked slowly, not wanting to startle Yuugi. If this was some strange magic at work, any false move might trigger destruction. Was this even Yuugi? The spirit reached out with his own magic, feeling out the contours of Yuugi's mind. He brushed against them, ascertaining that, yes, it was Yuugi wearing the Puzzle. This was no construct staring back at him. "Yuugi?"

Yuugi blinked once more. Then his eyes focussed. He gripped the toy in his hand so tight, it splintered, but he didn't seem to register it. Instead, he opened his mouth and screamed.

* * *

"What on earth are you doing?" Doctor Yamamoto cannoned into the room and shoved Jounouchi aside.

Jounouchi hit the wall with his shoulder, but just like everyone else, he was too fixated on Yuugi to care. "I was just trying to help –"

On the bed, Yuugi convulsed like he was having a seizure. His screams were deafening. Doctor Yamamoto grabbed his wrists, trying to hold him down. "Nurse!" he yelled.

A man appeared in the doorway, cursed and hit a blue button next the bed. As he advanced to help the doctor, a formidable woman in a similar uniform entered. The two nurses managed to pin Yuugi down while Doctor Yamamoto busied himself with a syringe. Yuugi was barely aware of them, he continued to kick and struggle, but his gaze was bleary, as if looking at something none of them could see. Though he was tiny, and seemed even tinier surrounded by the three adults, one of his fists caught the woman in the face hard enough to split her lip. She grunted and gripped his wrist so hard that his entire hand blanched, restraining his thrashing head and neck with a flat palm against his forehead.

"Hold him still," said Doctor Yamamoto.

"Is that a sedative?" Grandpa Mutou wanted to know. "Won't that affect him badly if he already has –?"

"I said hold him still!" Doctor Yamamoto gritted.

"He only just woke up!" Jounouchi protested. "You can't knock him out again!"

"What is this?" The female nurse plucked at the Millennium Puzzle. She shot the onlookers a disgusted look, pulled the chain over Yuugi's head and all but threw the Puzzle onto the floor. Only Honda's reflexes stopped it from smashing once again into pieces. Without Yuugi to put it back together, there was no way they could restore the Item if it was broken.

As if on cue, Yuugi's entire body stiffened. He stopped struggling. His eyes fixed on the ceiling. Doctor Yamamoto took the opportunity to find a vein. Moments later, the stiffness abated and Yuugi's eyes rolled up into his skull.

Doctor Yamamoto stood back, breathed a sigh and then spun around furiously. "I don't know what happened, but I do think you should leave now."

Grandpa Mutou squared his shoulders. "Yuugi is my family," he said. "I'm not about to leave him here all alone."

The look Doctor Yamamoto gave him was a blend of accusatory and exasperated. "Fine," he said after a moment, "but you wait outside this room until I decide seeing you won't trigger another episode like that. As for the rest of you," he said, looking at Yuugi's friends, "unless you're family, you need to leave."

"But –" Anzu started.

"Leave, or I will have to call someone to escort you out."

Grandpa Mutou shot them a pleading look. Just as Yuugi looked smaller than usual in the hospital bed, surrounded by medical equipment and authoritative people in white coats, the usually dependable Grandpa Mutou looked old and haggard. "I think it's best if you go home," he said softly. "I'll call you all when Yuugi …" He paused, searching for a way to finish the sentence. "When I have an update for you."

Unable to argue their way out of it, Yuugi's friends filed slowly out of the room, down the corridor, and out of the hospital.

* * *

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	2. Desperately Seeking Seto

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* * *

**2. Desperately Seeking Seto**

* * *

"Well?" Jounouchi looked directly into Honda's eyes as they stood a block away from the hospital, the first to speak after what had happened. "You going to tear into me now, or are you trying to spare Anzu's delicate ears?" He looked to Anzu, hoped that the provocation would have results. Her lack of response, of eye contact even, was grimly disappointing.

"Dude, don't." Honda looked him dead in the eye. "Even if we do take our feelings out on you, that's not going to do Yuugi or the Other One any good." Jounouchi looked down and saw Honda's clenched fist; he had plenty of feelings to take out on something, Jounouchi was sure of that.

"The doctor was wrong." Anzu quietly said, looking back at the hospital, probably right at Yuugi's room. "It's not just a head injury. The puzzle, the...the spirit..." The words fell clumsily off her tongue, which Jounouchi understood perfectly well; none of them were quite sure what the spirit of the puzzle was, whether it was another side of Yuugi or some trapped spirit or something else entirely, but the idea that the puzzle could ever hurt Yuugi? That was impossible. "Something's getting in the way."

Jounouchi inhaled through his nose and exhaled the same way, trying to clear his head like that one action movie star he liked but could never remember the name of: Jean Claude something or other. "All right guys, this ain't my first instinct, not by a long shot, but right now we don't got a clue how to fix this mess. So we gotta call up the one guy who has a chance and the resources to get us some clues and would be willing to try, if only to lord it over us afterwards."

Honda and Anzu looked at him suspiciously.

"Yeah," Jounouchi deadpanned. "Kaiba."

* * *

Mokuba kicked his feet in a pattern – left, right, then both together, left, right, then both together. The couch beneath him was squishy but the exterior was shiny black leather. It was perfect for his brother's office.

Seto's secretary glanced over at him sympathetically. "I'm sure he won't be much longer."

Mokuba was sure he would be, but he let the woman think her words were comforting. Organising Battle City was occupying almost every inch of Seto's brain. There was no way he would be out of here until late tonight. By corollary, Mokuba wouldn't be going home until late either. Seto may not need him to help with the preparations, but Mokuba needed to help. Ever since Seto met that mysterious woman in the museum, he had been even more distracted than usual. There had been periods in their history when Mokuba had felt like he was losing his brother to the inside of his own head. Every time, Mokuba had been there to ground him and provide a thread to lead Seto back to reality. Sometimes that thread was more of a lasso, but mostly Seto managed to grasp it himself. That was just the way things worked between them.

Battle City was the biggest public event Seto had tired since taking over as CEO. There had been other initiatives – disassembling the military arm of the business and reconstituting themselves as a gaming company far outweighed this in terms of time and money – but this has the potential to not only put Kaiba Corp. on the international map, but to set up a pedestal for them as well, so the rest of the world could see what they could do.

Mokuba's stomach rumbled. He slid off the waiting couch and made his way down the corridor, towards the vending machine. He had enough change for a couple of candy bars. The canteen was open, but he felt like something sugary. Unfortunately, a giant banner had been stuck to the front of the machine: OUT OF ORDER.

"I'm just going downstairs," he called to Seto's secretary. There was another vending machine in the foyer which had better candy anyway. Maybe he would also get a melonpan for later.

"Oh?" She glanced between him and the closed office door. "But I'm sure he'll be right out –"

"Don't worry; I'll be back in a minute. I don't think Seto will mind waiting for me."

She didn't look sure, but Mokuba went anyway. He knew his brother better than any secretary – especially since Seto's personality meant he went through at least three every quarter. Mokuba was just pondering whether this one would be around at Christmas, and whether that merited a special Christmas medal for bravery and endurance, when the elevator doors pinged open on utter chaos.

"I'm tellin' ya, we don't need an appointment!" someone yelled. "He knows us! Just ask him! Just ask the bastard and he'll tell ya that he knows us! Now get your paws offa me!"

Mokuba followed the commotion to a pair of security guards attempting to haul someone to the front sliding glass doors. The person was struggling, cursing and yelling in a very familiar way. Even more familiar were the two figures looking on with a mixture of embarrassment and alarm.

"Jounouchi?" Mokuba said. "Honda? Anzu? What are you three doing here?" The announcement for Battle City wasn't until tomorrow. Could it be that someone had leaked the information early?

Honda and Anzu turned at the sound of his voice.

"Mokuba!" Anzu cried with the kind of delight usually reserved for Disneyland and winning the lottery. "That goodness you're here!"

"Mokuba!" Jounouchi yelled. "Tell these idiots we know your brother! Hey!" he yelped. "I thought I told you two to keep your mitts off the merchandise!"

"Mr. Kaiba?" one of the guards said dubiously.

Shaking off the eternal feeling that the title was Seto's and only Seto's, Mokuba waved a hand at the two of them. "It's okay, guys. These are some, uh, friends of mine."

"They said they knew Mr. Kaiba." The guard who had spoken flicked his eyes at the ceiling, cementing Mokuba's thought of whom the name really belonged to.

"We do!" Jounouchi shouted.

"They do," Mokuba confirmed. He looked around. "But there are usually four of them."

"That's kind of why we need to talk to you," Honda said. "Or your brother, actually."

"You want to talk to Seto about Yuugi?" Mokuba echoed. "Why?"

"We'd … rather not talk about it here." Anzu was wringing her hands and chewing her lower lip in a disturbingly endearing way, given that her expression and tone were anxious.

The sight made something inside Mokuba melt a little, as it always did around her. He had once tried to talk to Seto about that particular weirdness, but Seto had just dismissed it as hormones and told Mokuba not to waste his time thinking about someone so insignificant. Seeing her now, obviously worried and looking to him for help, made Mokuba reconsider his brother's advice.

"Is there somewhere we can go?" she asked.

"Preferably someplace where your brother's at," Jounouchi added. "Ugh, I can't believe I just said that. I feel all dirty."

"Seto's busy. He won't be available to talk for hours."

Honda cursed under his breath. Jounouchi cursed at the top of his voice. Anzu didn't curse at all, but bit her bottom lip harder and wrung her hands so much her knuckles turned white. The combination made a couple of bells chime in the back of Mokuba's mind. Suspicion bit at him like angry mice.

"Why exactly do you need to talk to my brother?"

"We just do!" Jounouchi slid his eyes to the guards, who had released him but still stood nearby, ready to pounce if the need arose.

"It's really important," Anzu said softly. "Is there no way you could get Seto to talk to us?"

_Not with Battle City so close to starting,_ Mokuba thought. "You could wait," he said at last. "When he's finished, he might see you then."

They exchanged looks. "It might be the best chance we have," Honda said cryptically. "He could get an airlift to some other hospital. A _better_ hospital."

"Sure got enough dough," Jounouchi sullenly added, as if someone being being rich was a personal insult to him.

Mokuba shook his head as if to clear it. "Follow me," he said, gesturing. "One of the board rooms upstairs is empty. You can wait in there. I'll have Seto's secretary bring up some hot drinks or something."

"Thank you, Mokuba," said Anzu. "We wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

Mokuba's face reddened. "Uh, yeah." He ducked his head. "Whatever. Just follow me."

* * *

Sugoroku raised his face out of his hands. Doctor Yamamoto stood over him, arms folded. Behind him was another, even taller man in a different uniform. The polystyrene cup of coffee Sugoroku had failed to drink sat on the bench beside him, a scum-ring around the edge of the liquid.

"Yes?" he said tiredly.

"Mr. Mutou, we need a word," said Doctor Yamamoto.

"We?" Sugoroku eyed the man behind him. He had a police hat tucked under his arm and all the buttons on his jacket were polished to a shine. "What's going on here? Is this about Yuugi's accident?"

"Partly," the officer said.

Sugoroku narrowed his eyes. He didn't like the bland tone, crafted to let no emotion show. It was even more disturbing than Doctor Yamamoto's accusatory tenor.

"I already told you, I don't know what he was doing in that warehouse," Sugoroku protested. "You'll need to talk to his friends for that."

"We already interviewed them at the scene," said the officer. "We're investigating the fire as a matter of course. This is about another matter, Mr. Mutou."

"What?"

But it was Doctor Yamamoto who answered. "Upon examination, it seems your grandson has a number of other injuries; some recent, some long-healed. We're viewing them as suspicious. We were wondering whether _you_ could shed some light on how he came to have them."

Sugoroku's back arched slightly. "Are you accusing me of something?"

"I just find it interesting that he had such a violent reaction to your presence earlier."

Before Sugoroku could respond, the police officer interrupted, "Sir, you can either consent to be interviewed here, or down at the station. Doctor Yamamoto has kindly allowed us to use his office if you would prefer to stay."

Sugoroku was suddenly reminded of times Yuugi had come home late, or limping, or trying to cover up some injury he later provided elaborate explanations for. Sugoroku had ignored the paucity of each excuse. In the beginning, he had thought them all attributable to bullies. He wasn't a fool; he knew his grandson was a bully magnet, but he also knew that when he had stepped in and gone to the administration during elementary school they had only set on Yuugi even more. Yuugi had begged him not to interfere again and the plaintiveness of the request had tugged Sugoroku's heart into a place it should not have gone. He should have done more. He should have ignored Yuugi's pleas and fought harder for him, instead of choosing to believe ridiculous excuses. It had been easier to accept what Yuugi had to tell him than to question the way things seemed to be spiralling lately. Yuugi's injuries weren't just bullies' work anymore. Ever since Seto Kaiba challenged Sugoroku for his Blue Eyes White Dragon card and Pegasus began his ill-fated contest, Yuugi had changed. He had become more secretive, but still Sugoroku had chosen not to question him too deeply.

He stood stiffly and nodded at the two men. "Fine. I'll speak with you."

* * *

"What do you mean, he went to get candy?" Seto demanded.

His secretary shrank in her chair. "H-He said he'd be right back, s-sir."

Seto resisted the urge to thump her desk in anger. That would do nobody any good. Instead, he straightened and flicked hair from his eyes. The simple movement allowed his composed veneer to slide into place. "Humph. When he comes back, tell him to take the limo back to the house. I won't be coming home tonight."

"Sir?"

"I have business dealings to attend to. My contacts at City Hall have made a special allowance to meet me. Just like Kaiba Corp is making a special contribution to the city library scheme and several housing projects," he added under his breath. Battle City was going to be his crowning achievement and would finally cement him as premier duellist over that damnable Yuugi Mutou. However, it did require greasing several palms and pledging his company's involvement in renovating Domino without taking credit for the work.

"B-But Mr. Kaiba, sir –" his secretary burbled.

"These meetings will be boring and longwinded, Miss … whatever your name is. I will not be enjoying them, I do not wish to have them, but they are unavoidable, as will your job-search be if you continue to annoy me. Do not misunderstand: I may not be able to write 'she was annoying' on your dismissal notice, but there are ways of getting around that which would be equally satisfying and equally permanent. Am I making myself clear?"

She sat up straight as a beanpole. "Yes, sir."

Seto nodded and turned on his heel, swirling to the elevator and the rooftop helipad. He folded his arms and settled into his seat, thinking as the chopper took off that Mokuba probably had the better end of this evening.

* * *

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	3. Sugoroku Learns the Truth

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* * *

**3. Sugoroku Learns the Truth**

* * *

Anzu's ears perked up when she heard Jounouchi. He was looking out the window of the boardroom, his eyes following a familiar helicopter as it flew away.

"Kaiba, you freaking jackass!"

She knew that he had far stronger words in mind, but the middle of the Kaiba Corp Tower was not the right place, nor was his younger brother the right company. Speaking of, Anzu turned attention to Mokuba and saw that even he was surprised at the latest turn of events. Mokuba seemed unable to look her in the eye.

"I'm sorry guys, I knew he was going to be busy, but I didn't think he'd be this busy."

"It's okay Mokuba; it was a long shot from the start." Anzu stepped towards him and reached out to put a comforting hand on his shoulder. When she made contact, however, he flinched a bit, prompting her to take it back. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." It was like back in Duellist Kingdom when Mokuba first woke up after getting his soul back, flinching away from all of them as they stood over him in his bed.

"No, it's okay." He was still looking away, but Anzu didn't want to press any further; beyond the fact that it was probably something he would have to deal with on his own, right now too much of her heart was bound up in worry over Yuugi to be able to properly reach out and help anyone else. "Maybe..." Mokuba looked at her shyly from the corner of his eye. "Do you think that maybe, um, I could help with whatever is going on with Yuugi? I mean, instead of my brother?"

"Um…" Anzu looked to Honda and Jounouchi for guidance.

"Why not?" Honda's tone was cautiously optimistic. "We came here to get help from a Kaiba, so why not the one who actually stuck around instead of running off to make his next million." He seemed to realise what he had said while he was still saying it and cringed. "Sorry, Mokuba."

"No, it's okay, Honda."

Anzu wasn't sure what to make of it, but Mokuba definitely seemed more at ease talking to Honda or Jounouchi than to her. Maybe later, after Yuugi was all better and back to normal, she could give some thought to it. Right now she grasped as the slim possibility that Mokuba might be able to help him.

Mokuba looked around expectantly. "So what's going on?"

"Okay," Anzu sighed, hoping that getting the story off her chest would do her some good. "You see, it all started when Yuugi and I were walking to school …"

* * *

When Yuugi awoke, his Grandpa and those strange teenagers were gone. One of them, the girl, had looked a lot like Anzu, but she was too old and he was kind of sure Anzu didn't have an older sister. Maybe the girl was a cousin or something who had driven Anzu out to visit him. Or maybe –

"Ow!"

Moving made him notice how awkward and stiff his body was. His arms and legs felt weird and wrong. He looked around the hospital bed and spotted a small mirror on the cabinet beside him. It was obviously for shaving or make-up, and had probably been left behind by some previous occupant. Peering into it, he was alarmed by the face looking back. While still youthful and familiar, it wasn't his face. He tried to get up but his body wouldn't cooperate and he tumbled out of bed to a floor that was much closer than anticipated. While still short, his arms and legs were definitely longer than he remembered. He struggled up and eased himself backwards to perch on the bed. It seemed safer than trying to stand.

There was a man outside the door, flipping through pages on a clipboard. He had a white coat on and looked vaguely familiar, though his actual name escaped Yuugi. Slowly, Yuugi shuffled across to the door, using various parts of the wall for support.

"Mr. Doctor?" Yuugi's voice was quiet, but the man heard him and responded quickly.

"Yuugi?" He sounded very concerned, like most of the doctors Yuugi had known. Despite the hard lines on his face he tried to have a pleasant look. "You shouldn't be out of bed. How are you feeling?" Yuugi noticed the man's name tag: Doctor Yamamoto. It sounded familiar, but only vaguely.

"Umm, okay, I suppose. A bit achy?"

The doctor looked sympathetic. "You're a brave young man, but you don't have to worry anymore. If your Grandpa has been hurting you –"

"What? No!" Yuugi shouted. "My Grandpa's the nicest Grandpa in the whole world! He'd never hurt me!"

"But Yuugi," the doctor said, pausing as if to consider his words. When he continued, it was along a different track. "Do you think it's okay to lie?"

Yuugi looked at him suspiciously, wondering where this was going. "No."

"Would you ever lie?"

"Not … really." Some of the kids at school picked on him sometimes and he didn't tell anymore, but that wasn't really lying; that was just not telling adults stuff they didn't need to know.

"No, because you're a good boy. But sometimes, Yuugi, we find ourselves lying even though we know it's wrong because we tell ourselves we're not doing it for ourselves. We tell ourselves we're doing it to protect someone we care about from getting into trouble. But lying is wrong whichever way you slice it."

"I guess so."

"Someone has been hurting you, Yuugi. You mustn't lie to cover for them, whoever they may be. It doesn't do anyone any good in the end."

Yuugi set his jaw. "My Grandpa," he said, "is the nicest Grandpa in the whole world. He let me come live with him and looks after me. He'd never hurt me."

Doctor Yamamoto continued like Yuugi hadn't spoken. "You may not be able to remember who it is right now, but if you have any inkling, you should tell me or one of the nurses. I'm a doctor, as you can see; caring for people and looking after them is my job. You don't have to protect someone who hurts you. You _shouldn't _lie to protect someone who hurts you."

Yuugi considered his options. He was loath to tell anyone the truth, but if the alternative was anyone thinking badly of his grandfather, he would have to swallow his own feelings and take the consequences. "Do you promise not to tell anyone?" He had heard that doctors had to keep secrets. He hoped that was true.

Doctor Yamamoto nodded eagerly.

"There are lots of bullies at school. When I don't give them my lunch money fast enough, they beat me up. They say that if I tell anyone, they'll beat me up even worse – _outside_school, where the teachers can't stop them!"

"Hmm." Doctor Yamamoto had a hard look in his eye, like a detective going over clues. "Does your Grandpa help you?"

"He tried. He went to the principal, but that just made things worse. Anzu tried to help too, but the same thing happened. The bullies hate it when people squeal on them." Yuugi's mouth felt too dry. "They said …" He tried to swallow but couldn't. "They said that if I squealed on them again, they'd hurt her outside school too. They're really mean kids."

"Anzu? Ah, you mean the girl we had to remove."

"What? No, that can't be right." Yuugi shook his head, momentarily caught between the bullies in his head and an image of Anzu's cousin. "Anzu isn't …" He groaned as a pain welled up behind his temples and sank to his knees. "What's … happening … to me?" he asked in a panic.

"Calm down, Yuugi." Doctor Yamamoto's voice was quiet and gentle. "You may have noticed that things seem a little … off to you. You've had a pretty big band on the head. While the details aren't clear yet, I can tell you that you've forgotten some of your memories."

"I have?" Yuugi bit his lip in pain. His brain felt like it was about to explode. "H-How much?"

Doctor Yamamoto hesitated before answering. "About five years or so."

Five … _years_? Yuugi groaned and the whole world went black.

...

"Hmm."

Officer Himura, as Sugoroku had come to know him, was going over the answers he had written down during the course of the interview. Sugoroku had to admit the man had a good ear and a fast writing hand, and despite his scepticism he never tried to railroad or direct Sugoroku to some sort of self-incrimination.

"Well, the investigation is far from over. If the answers we get elsewhere contradict what you've told me, we will have to call you down to the station. But …" He hesitated. "Off the record, at the moment I believe you when you say you've never touched the boy. If we can corroborate what you've told us about bullying, you may be off the hook, Mr. Mutou."

"Really?" All throughout the interview the man had a true poker face unlike any Sugoroku had encountered in his years of gaming and gambling. "Thank goodness, I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't believed me."

"The truth of the matter is that my medical history growing up is quite similar to your grandson, so I do have an insight that other officers would not. Kid bullies can be more violent and vicious than anyone realises. Victims are often afraid to speak out, or hide their injuries from family members. It's not uncommon for them to even fake accidents in front of loved-ones so they never question how other injuries came to be there; falling down stairs, bumping into doors, 'accidentally' scalding hands, and other such measures." Even as he said this, Officer Himura's expression and tone remained unchanged. "In any event, I shall give Doctor Yamamoto my recommendation to allow you to see your grandson again, under strict supervision of course. And I do recommend care and caution to avoid another episode."

"Thank you very much, Officer Himura." The two men shook hands and the policeman departed.

When Sugoroku reached Yuugi's room, it was to find Doctor Yamamoto already present. He had pulled a chair up to Yuugi's bed and appeared to be deep in conversation with him. For his part, Yuugi was nodding and shaking his head, but wore such a stunned expression that it put Sugoroku on instant alert. While Officer Himura believed he had not been hurting his grandson, the doctor was more doubtful. One word from either of them to social services and more problems than Sugoroku could deal with would arrive alongside the current situation.

"Doctor Yamamoto," Sugoroku greeted him tightly. "Is everything all right?"

"Grandpa!" Yuugi tried to spring out of bed, but fell back with a pained noise. "Is it true?" he demanded. "Did I really lose my memory?"

"Uh …" Sugoroku looked at Doctor Yamamoto. How much should he say? Officer Himura's warning rang in his ears.

"We've been having a little chat," the doctor said. "Could I have a word outside?"

Sugoroku was fast becoming tired of 'having a word' with anyone in a uniform. Still, he bade Yuugi lie still and followed the other man to the corridor, where they spoke in hushed voices.

"Officer Himura was satisfied with my answers," Sugoroku put in before he could be overruled. "I have not, and have never hurt Yuugi. I'm not some abusive … scapegoat."

Doctor Yamamoto nodded distractedly. "You understand that my job requires me to report anything of that nature that is suspicious. I was not attempting to make you a scapegoat, Mr. Mutou. I have seen children with injuries like your grandson's and there have been stories behind them that make my blood run cold." As if to emphasise his point, he shivered.

The knot of tension inside Sugoroku eased, but only a smidgen. "Why did you want to speak to me without Yuugi overhearing?"

"To be blunt, Yuugi suffered another bout of unconsciousness a short while ago."

"He did?" Sugoroku's own blood ran cold at the news.

"You will remember that I said your grandson is showing signs of retrograde amnesia. My initial prognosis was that he was missing at least five or so years from his recent memory. Having spoken with him just now, I stand by that conclusion, but after recovering from his faint he had no memory of the conversation in which I established my prognosis. To put it in Layman's terms: we spoke, he passed out, and when he woke he didn't remember that we had spoken. He didn't, in fact, remember _me_ at all and was completely bewildered to find himself in a hospital."

The knot tightened again. "What are you saying?" Sugoroku asked.

Doctor Yamamoto sighed. "Very rarely, there have been reported cases in which an individual sustains pure retrograde amnesia as a result of a physical brain injury. However, more often, retrograde amnesia occurs in an individual who also has anterograde amnesia, which is, I believe, the case with your grandson."

Sugoroku frowned. "What does any of that even _mean_?"

"In the case of an individual with anterograde amnesia, he or she also exhibits loss of memory for events occurring _after_ the injury as well as _before _it. The amnesia also affects the forming and retention of new memories. In effect, a combination of both types of amnesia effectively halts an individual's development at a single stage and prevent progression from there onwards."

"So what you're telling me," Sugoroku said slowly, "is that not only does Yuugi think he is eleven years old, but in his mind he won't get any older, and every time he goes to sleep he … _resets_ himself?"

"For as long as the amnesia lasts, yes, I believe that may be the case. We need to do some more tests but–"

"And how long does this amnesia usually last?"

"That depends entirely on the individual, I'm afraid. It may be a few hours, it may be weeks, it may be years–"

"Or it may be never." The implications of what was happening almost floored Sugoroku. He resisted the urge to prop himself up against the wall. He glanced over his shoulder, back into the room where Yuugi was examining the bandages on his burnt hands and pulling up his shirt to look at those on his chest as well. The warehouse fire, and holding tightly onto a chunk of hot metal, had left him with fresh scars to add to the old ones. Judging by Yuugi's expression he didn't remember getting any of them. "Yuugi may be stuck as an eleven year old boy forever?"

"If he does have a combination of retrograde and anterograde amnesia – and at this moment in time this is pure speculation pending further tests – it will be as if his memory sends itself back to a certain moment in his past with each new day."

Sugoroku shook his head. This was all too much. Somehow things like magic, card-wielding psychopaths, selfish billionaires and ancient spirits seemed much more manageable than a medical problem with such far-reaching repercussions. Yuugi had always been a constant in his life; a smiling reason to get up every morning, even when times were tough or his aging body pushed him towards the kind of depression that had made his daughter-in-law abandon her son with him in the first place. Yuugi was the one thing he felt he had done right since giving up treasure hunting. To have their bond snatched away, reset to its infancy when Yuugi had only been living with him a short while … it was mind-boggling.

Sugoroku drew himself up. "Can I talk to him? Will he remember it afterwards?"

"I can't answer that, Mr. Mutou, for the simple reason that I don't know. Your grandson requires further testing to even confirm what I've conjectured so far."

Sugoroku nodded and went back into the room without excusing himself.

"Grandpa?" Yuugi looked up at him with wide, questioning eyes; the same eyes he had turned on his grandfather the night Sugoroku got the phone-call to say his son had been killed in a car accident and his daughter-in-law was in intensive care at this very hospital. Yuugi had that same expression now; hesitant, suspecting something was wrong but not wanting to put the question into words.

Sugoroku sat down heavily in the vacant chair. "I guess you have some questions for me, Yuugi."

* * *

.


	4. Millennium Visitor

.

* * *

**4. Millennium Visitor**

* * *

After Yuugi's friends had shared their highly fragmented, decidedly incomplete story with him, Mokuba experienced a gamut of emotions in a very short time: horror, sadness, worry, grief, determination and a deep-seated apprehension that could only come from living all your life with Seto Kaiba.

"Big Brother's going to be really mad when he finds out about this," Mokuba said to himself.

"What was that, Mokuba?" Anzu asked.

"Uh, I mean … nothing."

"You reckon your brother ain't gonna be pleased you helped us without telling him first?" said Jounouchi. It sounded like a question, but also not.

Mokuba sighed. "No, I think he'll be madder that something bad happened to Yuugi."

"He will?" Anzu seemed surprised. "But he doesn't even like Yuugi."

"No. Yes. It's … complicated. Seto doesn't always know when he likes people."

"Well that was clear as crystal caked in turd," said Jounouchi.

"Dude!" Honda punched his shoulder. "Gross!"

Mokuba went on regardless. "He's probably going to take it out on you guys first. Especially you, Anzu." He knew there was no sense trying to hide what was going to happen from her. If she was the last person to see Yuugi before he wound up in the abandoned warehouse, the course of Seto's vindictive logic was clear; it would be her fault. His safety would have been her responsibility in Seto's mind, even if he wasn't able to articulate it that way. Seto always needed someone to beat and someone to blame, possibly the same person, but often not. It was how it had been with their stepfather and had never changed, though the targets had.

"Thanks for the warning Mokuba." Anzu's voice was self-reproachful, like part of her believed she deserved his brother's wrath. "Is there anything you can think of that might help Yuugi in the meantime?"

"Well, my brother and I have our own private medical staff. If they can get hold of Yuugi's medical records, they might be able to come up with something."

"It's better than nothing," Jounouchi groused. "Unfortunately, even if we went in your brother's helicopter, there's no way we'd be able to get back to the hospital before visiting hours end."

"Jounouchi, I don't think you quite get how far the Kaiba Brothers' reach extends when they put their minds to it." Mokuba took out his cell-phone, a decidedly much more expensive model than any of them had seen before, and pressed speed-dial. "Doctor Katashi, we've got a case that needs your immediate attention..."

* * *

"Excuse me?" Sugoroku, Yuugi, and the doctor all looked up. Their faces cleared when they saw a boy with big brown eyes and a soft, polite voice. No matter the time or country, people were so easily fooled by the appearance of innocence. "Are visiting hours over?"

"Oh, Bakura, I was wondering why you weren't with the others." The old man seemed very tense. Given what they had been saying when they thought nobody could hear, that only made sense.

"Sorry, I'm afraid I was out for a walk at the time. I only picked up Anzu's message a short while ago." Not the truth, but Yuugi could hardly disagree and there was enough truth crafted in it to convince the two men.

"You're another one of Yuugi's friends?" The doctor looked directly at him. He was the most sceptical, since he was a stranger. "His other friends triggered some sort of reaction in him and had to be removed. Since then, his condition's been stable, but if you provoke another reaction you will be immediately removed. Do you understand me, young man?"

_**The things I understand dwarf your meagre imagination, my good doctor**_**. **

Bakura ignored the Spirit of the Millennium Ring and nodded. The Spirit allowed him this, but needles of reprimand in his mind told him not to get too full of himself. Bakura was immediately aware of what it might feel like to have your entire deconstructed like a fly having its wings pulled off. Inwardly he whimpered but outwardly he smiled. "I understand perfectly, sir."

"Very well." The doctor stood. "Mr. Mutou, I need to step out for a moment." He consulted a beeper as he spoke. "Can I trust you to keep an eye on things as we've discussed?"

"Of course."

Sugoroku didn't notice how the beeper disappeared and the doctor's his hand reached for the lighter in his pocket instead as he left, but through his eyes, Bakura knew the Spirit did.

_**Such a convenient habit for our purposes, don't you think, Landlord?**_

_I'm just glad you didn't have to do anything to make him go away._Bakura knew that meagre backtalk like that was meaningless, but he just couldn't bring himself to do more against the ancient spirit that used his body like a timeshare. He took the seat next to Yuugi and looked into his eyes; innocent, curious and devoid of recognition

"Are you my friend?" Yuugi asked hesitantly.

Bakura nodded. "I am indeed."

"Oh." Yuugi fiddled with the bed sheet. "I … I don't remember you."

"That's all right."

"It is?"

"Of course. I'm still your friend."

Yuugi squinted at him, as if studying him for falsehood. His face brightened when he apparently found none. "Do we play games together?"

_**Such good instincts from the vessel, yet such a weak and fragile frame**_.

The spirit took control, reaching into Bakura's pocket with Bakura's own hand. He took hold of the Millennium Eye and held it like a talisman. Sometimes it still felt warm and slick, but that was just Bakura's imagination – he hoped. Even in the unlikely event Pegasus had survived, there was no chance he would attempt to recover it.

"Yes," he purred. "Yes, I am."

_Y-You're sure this will help?_Trapped within but not fighting for once, Bakura spoke internally to the Spirit.

_**I am a thief and a stealer of souls. With the Millennium Eye I should be able to divine the solution to this problem. Just as at the warehouse; a broken King is no use for my purposes." **_

Still hidden in his pocket, the Millennium Eye swivelled to aim its unseeing pupil at Yuugi, as the Spirit of the Ring drew upon its power to look into his memories.

* * *

He stumbled through the streets, tripping over his own feet and the damn cape that swirled around his legs. It seemed designed to keep him from getting anywhere. He wanted to rip it off and run, but something gnawed at his brain and refused to let him. He had to stay concealed. He had to stay secret. Nobody could know who he was.

Who was he?

His head throbbed. He knocked into someone who yelled, but he couldn't understand the words. The voice faded as he stumbled on. He had to go … someplace. Where? He wasn't sure. His legs moved automatically, his mind a blur of half-lidded images that might or might not have been real.

Why did he smell of smoke?

His palms hurt. Somewhere between City Hall and the canal, he found himself looking at them and realising they were covered in burns. Blisters stung up and down his fingers when he clenched them into fists. The bridge of his nose and temples hurt the same way. When he touched them, bringing one hurt to another just made a greater hurt. He sank against a wall and groaned.

Why was he so angry?

His knuckles flared with agony. He had punched the wall. He didn't remember doing it, but he was still bleeding, so it could only have happened a few seconds ago. He should have felt scared. He was scared, but not of himself. A nameless evil was following him. He knew it like he knew the ground beneath his feet wouldn't melt and swallow him up.

Or would it?

_**Keith.**_

His spine straightened like he had been electrocuted. "Who's there?"

_**You can't get away from me, Keith.**_

He stared around him, but he was alone. Slowly, he recognised wooden boards and the steady lap of wavelets. He was on the pier. The horizon was a deep blue, almost black as evening advanced. He was sure it had been morning only a moment ago. He had been waiting, posing as a fortune teller while kids trailed past him on their way to school. He had been waiting for someone. He tried to remember who, but everything smashed together in his head. His thoughts were a mad jumble that made him ache from the top of his spine to the soles of his feet.

_**Keeiiith …**_

There was still nobody there. He clutched at his skull, realising where the voice was coming from.

"G-Get outta my h-head!"

_**I have another job for you, Keith.**_

"Go away!"

_**That's no way to speak to your master, Keith.**_

Fresh agony ripped through him. His fingers flexed involuntarily. His mouth opened in a silent scream. He knew the nameless evil: it was inside him. He wanted to tear out his head, twist off the top of his own head and claw away the fungus eating away at his mind. Instead, he could only wait, helpless, for the pain to stop.

_**Who is your master, Keith?**_

"Y-You are," he replied breathlessly.

_**Good. Never resist me again.**_

A bolt of pain went through him for emphasis. He nodded so hard his eyeballs rattled up and down. "Yes, Master."

_**You haven't finished what you started, Keith, the voiceless voice crooned. It was a terrifying non-sound. I want the Millennium Puzzle. Bring it to me.**_

The … Puzzle? He recalled a chain, a nail, small hands and leaping flames. He coughed at the memory fragment. "It … they took it away … the kid who has it went in an ambulance …"

_**The Pharaoh**_, snarled the voice. _**Find Yuugi Mutou and bring me his Puzzle.**_

"Y-Yes, Master." Yuugi Mutou. The name sounded familiar. Coupled with the image of an ambulance, he resolved to start his search at the biggest hospital in this pathetic berg and go from there. Maybe then he would be free. Maybe then his mind would be his own again.

_**Oh no, Keith. Your service is only just beginning…**_

* * *

.


	5. Shifting Sands of Time and Memory

.

* * *

**5. Shifting Sands of Time and Memory**

* * *

Bakura went carefully. Used this way, the Millennium Eye only allowed him to view memories, not change them. Attempting to alter a person's mind without having first practised upon them with the Item invited only bad consequences. He needed to establish what was wrong with the Pharaoh's vessel before he could attempt to influence it. His rival was never usually separated from the Millennium Puzzle this way. Not even an echo of the other spirit remained here. The door to the Mutou boy's Soul Room tasted of old fear and muted pain, where usually it stank of cheerful resolve and friendship.

Touching the door to the Soul Room sent the Ring Spirit reeling backwards. He crouched by the keyhole and peered through using the Millennium Eye. What unfolded next was not what he was expecting.

He felt himself to be a small boy, staring up at a vaguely familiar man clutching a telephone receiver. The man was trembling; the edges of his grey moustache quivering against his fat cheeks. This filled the boy – and by corollary the Ring Spirit – with trepidation. Something bad had happened and was about to happen some more.

"Grandpa?" It was an odd sensation, feeling his lips move but having no choice in what they said. The boy's voice was so much higher in pitch than he was used to as well. "What's wrong?"

"Th-There's been an accident," the man said in a choked voice. "Your parents' car … Yuugi, I'm so sorry …"

The scene shifted. He was still the boy but slightly older. He sat in a chair at a round wooden table. The smell of food wafted around him, yet he had no appetite. He could hear voices from the living room and wondered why adults always thought out of sight also meant out of earshot.

"But what about Yuugi? How will moving to Tokyo help him?"

"He's not going with me!" a female voice all but shrieked. "The company provided an apartment for one person only."

"Then what were you planning to do with him – put him in a birdcage and hang him from the ceiling? Honestly, Tsubasa, I know things have been difficult but he's your son –"

"I … I can't … I'm not doing this anymore, Sugoroku. Every time I look at him I see … I s-see …"

The boy made fists out of his hands. He knew who she saw. He had tried to comb his hair differently, to wear clothes that didn't remind her of Dad, but apparently he had failed. Fat tears welled in his eyes and spilled down his cheeks at the sound of a door slamming and a car engine fading into the distance. She had gone without kissing him goodbye, just as she had let him go to sleep every night without kissing him goodnight ever since she came home from the hospital. Grandpa had said they needed to give her time and space. Was forever enough time? Was it enough space?

Another shift heralded a mirror. The Ring Spirit recognised the face of Yuugi Mutou, albeit a younger version of him. Yuugi always looked younger than his actual years. The mirror reflected a boy of about eight or nine, which meant he was probably ten or eleven in reality. The boy sighed and shouldered his backpack.

"Maybe they'll leave me alone today," he murmured aloud.

The spirit flinched inwardly and detached himself from the memory when a bully's fist slammed into Yuugi's face. The grind of asphalt into an open cut on his elbow was unpleasant. Even more so was the feel of bruised ribs where they had kicked him. They already had his money; this beating was just for fun.

"Hey!" thundered a high-pitched voice. "Leave him alone!"

A girl with brown hair and a furious expression flew at the bully who was drawing back a foot. Her own foot landed in his crotch with enough force to make his eyes bulge and his face turn purple. He keeled over. The other bullies looked on with stunned amazement.

"Quick!" The girl yanked Yuugi to his feet and half-supported, half-carried him away. "Run for it!"

"W-What …?" Yuugi mumbled. "You s-saved me …"

"Don't talk, just run," she panted.

Yet Yuugi's viewpoint faded into darkness. The spirit waited for another scene change. When it didn't come, he poked experimentally, waiting for another deterrent from the vessel's protective Soul Room. Instead, all he felt and saw was darkness. It was as if whatever memory followed that moment no longer existed here. Yuugi Mutou had simply stopped _being_ between that second and waking in the hospital room in which both their bodies now resided.

"Interesting," the spirit murmured. "The Pharaoh's vessel is truly broken." A cracked goblet could hold no wine. Unless Yuugi Mutou was fixed, the Pharaoh would be unable to use his body without hurting him – something the oh-so-noble Pharaoh would never do. The spirit considered what this meant. "Nothing good for me and my plans," he concluded.

* * *

Sugoroku frowned. Bakura was one of Yuugi's friends but he was acting so strangely. He just kept staring into Yuugi's eyes like a hypnotist; which, coming on the heels of those cryptic questions, made Sugoroku apprehensive.

"Bakura," he said. When he got no response he touched the boy's shoulder.

"Grandpa?" Yuugi blinked like he had been dazzled by a bright light. "Oh. Oh! Are you okay?"

"I, uh …" Oh, so many ways to answer that question. Sugoroku settled on, "Do you remember Bakura?"

Yuugi shook his head. "Is he another friend?" he asked with awe, as if he couldn't believe that he had so many. Sugoroku supposed that, to Yuugi, this was a miracle. Yesterday he had been practically friendless, today he had more than he knew what to do with - except that the friends he had longed for had affected his mental state so badly they had been exiled from his side like strangers gawking at a traffic accident.

"I am indeed your friend," Bakura said softly. "Mr. Mutou, is Yuugi going to be all right? What happened? The others were rather lacking in details when I ran across them."

Sugoroku sighed. He wished he knew more details himself.

* * *

"Thank you, Doctor Yamamoto, for letting me talk with my friend." Bakura bowed as he spoke

"Thank you for not provoking his condition any further." His nerves were much more relaxed than before he had left the room. "All the same, visiting hours are over, so I'm going to have to ask you both to leave now." The doctor focused his attention on Sugoroku. "If Yuugi loses his memories again, we'll be sure to let you know."

"I'd appreciate it," Sugoroku said thickly. "Are you sure I can't stay here?"

"Standing vigil all night is something we only allow with, ah, terminal patients," Doctor Yamamoto replied. "Exhausting yourself won't do either of you any good. Go home and get some rest, Mr. Mutou."

"I guess maybe that would be best. But if there's anything I can do, I won't hesitate at all, you just call me and I'll be down here in a flash."

"I understand, sir."

Sugoroku faced Yuugi one last time. "I know this is probably scary for you, but we'll get through this, I promise."

"Okay Grandpa, I'll be brave."

Bakura couldn't help but be impressed. He certainly never had that kind of strength, not when he was eleven. He didn't even have that kind of strength now. He could feel the Ring Spirit moving inside him, curling and uncurling like cats in his stomach and brain. Did harbouring a spirit feel like this for Yuugi too? Was he frightened all the time? Did he also keep his fear from everyone so what was left of his soul wasn't crushed so beyond repair it would never be allowed entry into Heaven?

Plagued by these thoughts, Bakura and Sugoroku left Yuugi's hospital room and made their way down the hall. When they reached the first floor a group of especially officious looking men and women marched past, almost running them over. As Bakura looked over his shoulder at them, he noticed the Kaiba Corp logo on the lapel of their coats.

_**It figures Kaiba would respond this quickly**_, the spirit smirked. _**While I don't doubt his abilities, I'm still not leaving this alone**_.

"Bakura, do you need me to walk you back home?"

Bakura snapped back to himself, feeling greasy on the inside of his skin. "Oh, no sir. Do you need me to walk you back to the game shop?"

"No, I'm going to need this time to myself, but thank you for the offer." Sugoroku walked away. For the first time Bakura could remember, he truly looked small and aged, like the little old man he was but had never seemed before.

_**Hold on a second**_. The Millennium Ring flared against Bakura's chest like a burning brand on his skin. He barely held in the yelp of pain. _**Yes, the same presence that started this whole inconvenience, it's headed this way. Landlord, I am going to need the full use of this body to make sure that there will be no interference in the Vessel's recovery**_.

"No, wait–"

The spirit took over, heedless of Bakura's opinion or wishes. Using Bakura's own fingers he held up the suddenly visible ring and watched as the prongs lifted and pointed towards the pier. "Whoever you are," he said using Bakura's voice, "You will not get in my way again."

* * *

"Mokuba definitely had the better evening." Seto Kaiba emerged from Domino City Hall a drained man. If ever people wondered how he looked and acted like he was thirty when he was only sixteen, they just had to look at a sample of the paperwork and people who went with it that he faced off against every day. "I should call him." He took out his cell phone and hit the appropriate speed dial. "Mokuba, I apologise for leaving you so suddenly ... who is that in the background?"

"Yuugi's friends. Big Brother, there's been a serious accident."

"An accident? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, it didn't happen to me. It was Yuugi; he's been hurt and he's in the hospital – Jounouchi, wait!"

"Kaiba?"

That pathetic excuse of a loser? What the hell made him think he could take Mokuba's phone from him?

"What do you want? Why am I even talking to you, imbecile?"

"Yo, Kaiba, you jerk, this'll be the last time we ever think of coming to you for help!" Jounouchi raged.

"Yes, that would be such a terrible loss on my part." It certainly did seem that Yuugi's tagalong was determined to prove himself an idiot ... wait. "Shouldn't you be with Yuugi at the hospital if he's so injured?"

"That's just it, ya lousy prick, he – Anzu, give that back!"

Seto was going to have to demonstrate to that band of merry idiots that cell phones were not toys.

"Seto, please, we need your help." Mazaki's voice was pleading and overly loud, as if she had her mouth pressed too close to the receiver. "Yuugi's injuries were worse than we thought. He has amnesia. He lost his memory of the past five years – _all_his memories."

"Amnesia?" It couldn't be. It was too ludicrous for words; something that belonged in badly written pulp fiction and Saturday morning cartoons.

"Yes," the stupid girl said throatily, like she was choking back tears. If she had been any other female, he would have dismissed her as just overly emotional, but he knew from experience that while Anzu Mazaki was a creature guided by her emotions, she was not weak and definitely not as flighty as the average girl who attended Domino High. If she was upset, there was reason to be.

Instantly Seto's vigour and drive were renewed; the one duellist who would be defeated by no one other than himself, unable to remember their rivalry? He would have to remedy that situation immediately.

"My personal medical team should be able to attempt something."

"Mokuba already called them. They should be at the hospital right now."

Pride swelled in Seto. If anyone needed proof that he and Mokuba were related, that quick and intelligent action would clinch it.

"That's the first step," he said quickly. "Pending parental or guardian consent, we'll transfer him to the Kaiba Corp's private medical facilities for further testing. Our technology is, of course, far more advanced than anything available to the public. Money will be no object for something this important."

"Thank you, Seto." He could hear her stifling hers tears even more.

"I'm not doing this for you," he snapped. "Nor for him. I'm doing this because there's no way he's getting off the hook until I've defeated him in a duel." He ended the call without saying goodbye and began another immediately. "Doctor Katashi? You're already there, good. This is what you are to do..."

* * *

"Mr. Mutou!"

Sugoroku turned at the sound of his name. "Yes?" He didn't recognise the young man in the suit running towards him. The fact he was wearing sunglasses indoors didn't help. "Can I help you?"

"Actually, we're here to help you. Or your grandson, at least." He gestured at the logo on his lapel; an intersecting K and C. "Mr. Kaiba sent us."

"Seto Kaiba?" How had that young man become involved? His dangerous obsession with Duel Monsters had nearly cost Sugoroku his life, and while Yuugi and his friends had assured him that Seto was a changed person now, Sugoroku wasn't quite so quick to forget the past.

However, the man shook his head. "Mr. Mokuba dispatched our team to treat your grandson at his friends' request."

"Ah, Mokuba." That made more sense. Mokuba and Seto were like chalk and cheese – or a rabid attack dog and a fluffy puppy. The comparisons were endless and all accurate. "You're, uh, medical people?"

The man clicked his heels together, military-style, and nodded. "Yes, sir. We're the best of the best."

"And you're here to treat my grandson?"

"Pending consent, sir, yes. Your grandson is still a minor, so as his guardian, we'll need you to sign a few things. If you'll just come back upstairs, I can explain the options available as we go. Kaiba Corp recruited some of the world's most prominent neuro-researchers and psychologists during the beta testing stage of their virtual-reality technology, and they're still on staff, so –"

Sugoroku's heart sank. "Wait, wait," he said, holding up his hands. "I'm grateful to Mokuba, but there's a legal hitch."

"Sir?"

He sighed. It wasn't something they talked about often, but Yuugi had been firm in the beginning. He wasn't ready to give up on his mother, even after the way she had treated him. Sugoroku had admired Yuugi for his loyalty, but now it raised difficulties none of them could have foreseen. "Yuugi lives with me but his mother is still his legal guardian. You'll need to get her consent."

"I see. And where can I contact her?"

"Probably still in her office in Tokyo. She works long hours." Several years long. How was he supposed to explain to her what had happened? He had never shared anything about Duellist Kingdom. The last she had known – or seen of them – had been just after his heart attack. She had left them as soon as humanly possible so she could to return to work. "It's … probably best if I talk to her."

* * *

.


	6. Making Contact

.

* * *

**6. Making Contact**

* * *

"Well, Big Brother's taking care of everything now. You guys can go home now if you want to." Mokuba closed his cell phone but didn't pocket it right away; Anzu was the last one to hold it and, childish though it was, he couldn't bring himself let go of it just yet. "You all looked really tired."

"Thanks Mokuba, you were a big help." Anzu still didn't look relieved. She wouldn't until Yuugi was back to normal; assuming that was possible. "We owe you big time. Next time you need help, don't be afraid to call on us."

Mokuba cleared his throat and turned away. "But what are the odds of that happening, right?" Immediately he said it, memories of various kidnapping, life-threatening death traps and general mayhem sprang to mind.

"More likely than you think, little buddy," Jounouchi said as if reading his thoughts. He stepped forward and patted Mokuba hard on the back, almost causing him to drop his cell phone. He decided to go ahead and put it away, just in case. "Yuugi's always come through for us and he doesn't have anywhere near the kind of moolah you got."

"You'll be sure to call us as soon as anything happens." Honda waited for Mokuba to nod, eyes bright with emotions that didn't show on the rest of his stoic face. Mokuba didn't even have names for the half the things swimming behind Honda's gaze. They made him a little uncomfortable; Honda too, if his next words were any indication. "Okay, I'm taking off. I gotta get home before my mom passes a kidney stone, plus his place is way too rich for me to hang around. Thank again, Mokuba."

"It's no problem, really."

Honda made his way out the door, Jounouchi following soon after. Anzu lingered, her eyes unfocused.

"Anzu?" Mokuba cautiously reached for her shoulder. While she did seize up, she didn't force him away.

"I'm sorry Mokuba. I just ... I was just thinking."

"What about?"

She swallowed hard. "What if Yuugi doesn't get better? All the things we were going to do, the things we should have told him when we had the chance..." Tears were welling up. Her confession was so personal and private that Mokuba withdrew his hand like he had been burned. It felt wrong to touch her in a state like that. He had no real frame of reference for how to deal with other people's grief and anxiety. Seto had certainly never exhibited his and the staff were all trained into poker-faced professionalism 24/7.

"Don't worry." Adopting his brother's habit, Mokuba kept his face strong for her sake. "You'll have the chance again, I promise."

"Y-You shouldn't make promises you can't keep," she sniffed.

"I'll keep this one, I prom- I swear."

She gave him a watery smile. "Thanks Mokuba."

Then she too left, leaving Mokuba to sigh wistfully all by himself.

* * *

The ache in Keith's head was like a marching band stomping across his brain. He knew with the certainty of breathing that all he had to do was follow orders and it would stop. The closer he got to the hospital, the less it seemed to throb. He was less than impressed when someone stepped into his path and blocked it.

"Get outta my way," he growled.

The figure, some punk-ass kid with more hair than sense, folded his arms. "Leave."

"I said get outta my –"

"I heard what you said, cretin." The kid's voice was diamond-hard, his eyes like two chips of ice. "You only get one chance: leave now or suffer the consequences."

Keith couldn't go back. He would be punished. His head pounded, a minor irritation compared with what would happen if he failed. He took another step forward – and the world opened up around him like a black hole.

"I warned you," said the kid, who extended a hand. The darkness flowed up and along his arm like it was alive. It twisted around his fingers and shot forward, wrapping hungrily around any limb it could reach. It was like a tendril of living, breathing, oily darkness.

"What –" Keith was cut off as a portion forced its way down his throat.

"You should have heeded my warning," said the kid in a bored voice.

Keith shook his head, unable to breathe. His arms and legs were pinned, his head locked in position. When a dark circle shrank his vision like the end screen of a movie he wasn't sure if it was unconsciousness or the living darkness closing around him. His lungs were on fire. His muscles screamed. His throat convulsed, but no sound came out. He was aware of a ripping, tearing sensation inside, which spread through his whole body for seconds that telescoped into agonised hours.

And then he knew nothing at all.

* * *

The man in the ridiculous bandana crumpled to the floor. He was still alive but stared vacantly at nothing. The Spirit if the Millennium Ring stared dispassionately at the soulless body before turning away. Garbage was always picked up off the street by the authorities, after all. It ignored the whimper of his landlord deep within, looking on without truly understanding that what he was seeing wasn't just a nightmare his unconscious mind was experiencing.

"Ssssstop …"

The spirit looked back in surprise. The body was getting jerkily to its feet. Like a marionette with tangled strings it stood, knock-kneed, arms flopping against the wall for support. The man's head swung and all the spirit's senses prickled at the presence of magic. It was the same kind as before, but much stronger and more aware now.

"You banishhhed this body's ssssoul."

"I did," the spirit said unapologetically. "Who are you?"

"The master of the sssservent you just rrrrrrruined." Bandana Man shook his head, clacking his jaw experimentally the way someone might test out a Halloween mask they had just put on. "Who arrrre you, ssstranger?"

The spirit narrowed his eyes. It was in no mood to be quizzed by potential irritants.

"Why are youuuu protecting the Pharaoh?"

The spirit stiffened. "I have need of him."

"You wwwwant the Puzzzzle?"

"Eventually."

"The Pharaoh is your ffffriend?"

The spirit laughed. "Absolutely not."

Laughter made by a mouth and voice that didn't belong to their speaker was a grotesque sound. Whoever was piloting this body, they were unpractised. Or maybe they were just unused to a body that didn't already contain a soul to be subjugated. It was easier when you could allow another soul to do some of the grunt work: everyone knew the basics of how to move their own body around, which allowed Millennium Item spirits to rest every now and then. The magic the Spirit of the Ring sensed now was not like its own. This magic contained flecks of genuine life, not a facsimile like the spirit used. The wielder was still alive.

"I jjjust want to see the Pharaoh suffffffer. If you're willing to do that, mayyybe we should be working together insssstead of against each other. His vvvvvesssssel is of no interest to me beyyyyond that." Wonkily, the soulless man removed his sunglasses, revealing eyes that danced with supernatural light that turned his irises purple. "What do you sssssay?"

The spirit considered. Eventually it purred: "I'm listening."

* * *

Malik fumed. He should have expected there to be another Millennium Item user so near the Pharaoh; should have done more scouting to find out who else had an interest in the tyrant who had ruined so many lives – ruined _his_ life – but he hadn't. Now he was stuck negotiating with a boy he could only see through eyes unaccustomed to his soul using them.

"In a short while, the third Egyptian God Card will be unleashed on the streets of Domino. I already have the first two but, like with the Millennium Items, their true power is only obtained with the complete set. I had hoped to incapacitate and torture the Pharaoh to make gathering the final one easier, but due to your interference that is no longer possible. There's too much attention on the vessel now to strike from the shadows. So, when the time comes and my minions start walking the streets in pursuit of their duty, you will do what you can to assist them. Once my revenge is achieved and the God Cards are in my possession, the Millennium Puzzle and Millennium Rod shall be yours. That sounds fair, doesn't it?" Malik was aware of the slur of his words in Keith's mouth, but also knew the message was clear.

The white-haired boy stroked his chin in mock thought. "Pending a sudden memory of my own need for the God Cards, I am amenable to your arrangement."

"Fine, then the deal stands."

"For the time being, at least."

"Yes, yes, yes. The bargain is set and your part is clear. Go away and make plans to fulfil it."

The other boy's eyes widened with feverish menace. "Don't ever give me orders again," he said softly. "Or it will be the worse for you. You are not my master. I'm not even sure we're equals, given that I don't know your face or identity. Be very, very careful about telling me what to do."

Rather than answer, Malik released the man who was now a mere doll, already working on how to outmanoeuvre this new player in the game.

* * *

"Sugoroku." Tsubasa spoke neutrally, her attention focused on her work before her; it took a lot of work for anyone to reach her position, doubly so for a woman fighting against the glass ceiling, and she had to maintain that effort. There were always those who wanted to take her down a notch. "It's been a long time. What is this about?"

"Tsubasa, it's about Yuugi," her father-in-law said without preamble.

She froze up. Yuugi. Her son. How old was he now? He had always looked much younger than he actually was. Yet despite this, there was enough of his father in his looks that she had abandoned him to his paternal grandfather to raise as he saw fit.

"He needs surgery," Sugoroku went on, after explaining about a warehouse fire and a case of wrong-place-wrong-time. "You're still his legal guardian. If you don't sign the papers ..."

"How bad is it?" Her voice shook despite herself. Bonds are never so easily severed, she thought bitterly. How was it she could not think of either of them for months but the moment she let her guard down they blindsided her with unwanted emotions? It felt like weeds around her ankles in deep waters, holding her back but hidden from the naked eye.

"He suffered a blow to the head and has amnesia; not only has he lost the past five years, we think he might be losing any new memories as well. He'll be stuck at age eleven forever, unable to grow up. Please, you don't have to do anything else, but please come and sign the papers."

"I ..." She held the phone away from her, so she could breathe deeply and gather herself. "I don't have to actually see him, do I?" At age eleven, back when he was being bullied all the time, there was no way she could endure those eyes, silently wanting to know why she wasn't there for him. It was too hard to explain and she hadn't the patience or inclination, so she had since made all contact brief and perfunctory. Anything more was intolerable.

"Not if you don't want to. Do you want to?" Sugoroku asked hopefully.

Her response was simple and unequivocal. "No." She consulted her screen, already clicking websites with cheap last minutes tickets. "I'll head for the airport in half an hour."

"Half an hour? But Tsubasa, Yuugi needs –"

"Goodbye, Sugoroku." She turned off her phone and picked up the case file she had been looking at. She knew she should be working. She had landed a big account and had to … had to …

_Yuugi's face looking up at her, tear-stained and with a bloodied lip. Yuugi as a toddler, reaching for her to catch him when he learned to walk. Yuugi singing along with a song in the backseat of the … of the … car …_

_Twisted metal and smashed glass. Torn fabric and the smell of fresh air and fumes. Car, car, car, CAR, CAR,__CAR, __**CAR, CAR, CAR!**_

Tsubasa set her computer on sleep mode before grabbing her bag and heading out of the door. Sugoroku didn't have to know about this lapse. Nobody did. Ever.

* * *

.


	7. The Spirit Takes Action

.

* * *

**7. The Spirit Takes Action**

* * *

Tsubasa leaned back in her seat and contemplated the luxury of First Class. Her boss had pulled enough strings to get her on a plane far faster than a regular person and flying coach had never been an option. She wondered how her father-in-law had spent the money she sent home every month.

The last time she saw him he had been spending it on open heart surgery and decent aftercare. She shut her eyes, willing away the memory.

_I may not be the best mother_, she thought, _but nobody can ever say I don't financially provide for my family._

She ignored the small voice that demanded to know whether this would ever be enough. Once upon a time she had listened to that voice and devoted herself to the more traditional role of 'mother' and 'wife'. That was before the accident. That was before she re-evaluated her life and found it wanting in so many ways. She was intelligent. She had graduated _cum laude_ with a business degree and a Masters in Economics before she got married. It was ridiculous for her to waste her potential tending some crummy game store and waiting for a husband who would never come home again.

Her fingers tightened on the armrest.

"Don't worry." The man next to her leaned across and smiled. "They say it's more dangerous to cross the street in Tokyo than fly in an airplane."

She gave him her best boardroom smile: all teeth and tits. She had perfected that one after realising businessmen looked at those places first and eyes … rarely. She could get them to make a lot of decisions before their upper brains realised they were being fleeced, though she always felt a little greasy and unclean afterwards. Inwardly she imagined her armrest neighbour being pulled out of the open window at thirty thousand feet.

"Oh, I'm not worried."

"You're here on business?" he enquired, looking at her suit. Yes, right to the cleavage. She wore red to make herself seem tougher, but feminised it by sticking to skirts, open collars and cream blouses. White blouses were for newbies who hadn't learned the ropes yet. She had seen too many other women tamped down by trying too hard to be men in a man's world.

"Yes," she lied, thinking of the several hours between Tokyo and Domino. It would give her time to think. Unfortunately, it would give her time to think. "Just business."

* * *

"His _mother_ is coming?"

Jounouchi and Honda exchanged glances at Anzu's tone.

She clamped the phone harder to her head, as if trying to insert it into her skull via her ear canal. "Yes … yes, I understand, it's just …" She bit her lip. "No, I get it. I'm sorry, Grandpa Mutou. Goodbye." She pressed a button to disconnect and held the receiver to her chest, eyes closed.

"What?" Jounouchi demanded. She had only called to check on Yuugi's progress but now looked like she had been kicked in the throat.

"Yuugi's mom is flying in from Tokyo to sign some paperwork."

"His grandpa couldn't do it?"

"I thought he was Yuugi's legal guardian," said Honda.

Anzu took a breath as if for strength. "Yuugi never told you about his parents, did he?"

Families were something none of them talked about much. Honda was probably the most adjusted of everyone, but he was aware that this was not the case for his friends. Anzu's parents had divorced when she was in elementary school and her father had moved to America, so she hardly ever saw him. Jounouchi's situation was ugly as hell. Yuugi's, on the other hand … was a mystery outside of the fact that he lived with his grandfather. He thought back and couldn't remember the little guy ever talking about his folks.

Anzu took another breath before speaking. "When Yuugi was eleven, there was an accident. His parents were out for the evening and left his grandpa babysitting. Their … their car went off the road. His mom was driving. His dad … died." She opened her eyes and looked hard at them. "It was never my place to tell this story. If the aituation were different, I wouldn't be saying this. Yuugi has never held anything against his mom, but she couldn't cope afterwards. She left him and his grandpa. It hurt him … a lot, but he never …" She looked away.

Honda put two and two together. "If Yuugi think he's eleven years old again …"

"Aw crap," said Jounouchi.

"Yeah," said Anzu.

* * *

"I'm a big boy. I'm a big boy. I'm a big boy. I'm a big boy …"

Yuugi kept whispering to himself over and over, certain that he was about to hit the magic number where he would start believing it. The fact that he was apparently older than he remembered being when he went to sleep, that he was a teenager even if he still didn't quite look it, should have made it easier; but that little, selfish, bratty voice in him that wanted his mom to come and tuck him in and kiss all his boo-boos away would not be silenced.

It didn't matter how much he knew his mom was very busy. It didn't matter how much he knew she missed his dad, how nothing he did could ever make her stop seeing 'him 'when she looked at him. He still wanted her to hold him in her arms and assure him that everything was going to be okay.

So he kept on chanting to himself, eventually falling asleep to his own soft voice.

* * *

...

* * *

The Spirit of the Millennium Puzzle had never been separated from Yuugi for so long; not since he first solved the puzzle and awoke him from the unceasing darkness that he had been sealed within. He was more than worried; he was terrified. Not for himself, of course, but for what this meant for his aibou. Nobody could explain to him what was going on. All he had was formless dread and the memory of Yuugi's young, petrified face in the corner of his Soul Room.

Being so isolated had forced the spirit to try reaching out with his magic beyond the boundaries of the puzzle. It was something he could do, but not well, nor accurately, and it left him drained and exhausted. While his senses were still confined within his musty domain, he was sometimes able to pick up on occasional flashes of feelings, usually from whoever was holding the puzzle. Most recently he felt a sharp confusion; outrage marred by self-recrimination.

The spirit mustered his strength and focussed what meagre magic he had in this form. He concentrated on the exterior of the puzzle, on the vague warm patches that coalesced into fingertips the more power he summoned. All he needed was enough to get a single command through. With Yuugi, this was never a problem. He and Yuugi were linked on so many levels – mental, spiritual, magical – that letting Yuugi know what he wanted was like talking to someone you could only not see because you had your back to them. Now it was more like shouting until your lungs ached to get the attention of someone on the other side of a house made from thick walls.

_Do it!_ he broadcast. _Do as I command!_

* * *

Jounouchi flinched. "What the –"

Across the room, Anzu was on the phone again. Honda watched with a troubled expression, no doubt still thinking of what she had told them about Yuugi's parents. Jounouchi's family background was shitty enough, but at least both his mom and dad were still alive. His mom had abandoned him and his dad was a no-good drunk, but the thought of them dying still distressed him in ways he didn't like to think about.

He flinched again. In his hands, the Millennium Puzzle seemed to pulse for a second. He cupped his left hand to cradle it and shook out his right, in case it was just cramped from holding onto the thing for so long. He had barely let go of it since the hospital.

"Ow!"

The puzzle flared red hot for a millisecond. With it came a fuzziness that made him blink like he had been conked on the head. He had a weightless, light-headed moment, rather like the time when he was twelve and his dad had thrown him against a wall so hard he had lain unconscious on the bathroom floor for three hours in a position that cut off all blood to his left arm. When he woke up he had almost screamed with pain when the numbness finally wore off. Similar bright lights danced in front of his eyes now.

… _now …_

What?

… _it now …_

What was that?

_Do … it … now …_

Do what now? What was that?

Fresh fuzziness threatened to overwhelm him. With it came a sense of purpose so strong he didn't realise what he was doing until Honda spoke.

"Jounouchi? What the hell, dude?"

"Huh?" Jounouchi looked up in time to see his own hands loop the necklace part of the Millennium Puzzle over his own head. The weight of it settled against his chest.

Then the world exploded and he was pulled into the dark.

* * *

Anzu's head snapped around when Honda cried out.

"Jounouchi!"

Jounouchi was on the floor. He wasn't moving and his face had gone grey.

"I'll call you back, Mom," she said hastily and rang off. Dropping to her knees beside Jounouchi, she demanded, "What happened?"

"I don't know!" Honda was equally frantic. "He put on the Puzzle and collapsed."

The Millennium Puzzle was indeed around Jounouchi's neck. Anzu wondered why he had done it, when his eyes snapped open and he sat up so sharply that both she and Honda fell back onto their butts. Jounouchi's head turned in their direction but Anzu knew in a heartbeat that it wasn't him looking at them. Jounouchi had never looked so imperious. Nor was his voice so deep or forceful.

"Where," said Jounouchi-who-was-not-Jounouchi, "is my aibou?"

"The other Yuugi." Honda muttered beneath his breath in disbelief, and Anzu knew the same thoughts were running through their heads; that they thought only Yuugi could use the puzzle like that, and that any possibility about the other Yuugi just being another side of Yuugi that the puzzle had awoken was now dashed against the rocks and churned up in the waters. "Okay, a lot's happened dude, it's going to take a while to unpack."

"That can wait." The spirit worked Jounouchi's jaws awkwardly. "Right now, I just need to see my partner with my own ... well, with these eyes." He stood up and stumbled on his feet. "These legs are much longer than I am used to."

"I suppose they are." Anzu had a half-note of amusement in her voice as she and Honda stood back up. "Visiting hours are over but we can take you back to the hospital where Yuugi is and explain along the way. Does that sound good?" Anzu realised that she was looking up at him, and while that wasn't weird when talking to Jounouchi, it wasn't Jounouchi behind those eyes. "Is …" She licked her lips. "Is Jounouchi … is he okay?"

"Of course!" The spirit spoke defensively. "It is only like when I first started possessing my partner. Jounouchi shall be asleep and unaware until I return to the Millennium Puzzle." He stuck out his finger at Anzu. "Which I won't until I've seen him for myself."

"Well, no time like the present then." Honda made his way towards the door. Jounouchi-who-was-not-Jounouchi followed.

Anzu lingered a moment as she puzzled her own feelings out. Then she, too, followed.


End file.
